


When the Sun Comes Up

by planecrashdreams



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Angst, Eventual Smut, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-22 10:38:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11965689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/planecrashdreams/pseuds/planecrashdreams
Summary: “Can’t we just cuddle in your bed instead?”Katya lets out a startled laugh before trailing his arm around Trixie’s shoulder. He whispers mock-seductively into his ear, “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you to ask me that, Tracy.”





	1. Prologue

“Thanks for letting me sleep on your couch” Trixie says, following Katya up the narrow stairway up to his apartment. Katya definitely replies, but Trixie is concentrating hard on not letting his tipsy feet fall down the stairs and can’t make out the words.

Katya unlocks the door, pushing the door-handle up and jiggling the key until it swings wide, revealing the cosy space full of packing boxes and mismatched furniture. A grin forms on Trixie’s face as he trails him inside, full of bubbly feelings and snide remarks about the state of the apartment that would make Katya laugh.

“So this is it. The storage space where I like to keep all the worldly treasures I’ve collected while I actually live in hotel rooms. I’ll grab you a towel?” Katya asks. Trixie laughs and nods and watches Katya disappear into a hallway to the left. He wanders slowly around the room, eyes roaming over the framed art on the walls.

“Did you paint these?” He calls out, transfixed by one, a figure in blues and greys whose eyes look out beyond the frame. The far off look on the face makes Trixie feel vaguely homesick, or something like homesick.

He jumps at the closeness of Katya’s voice when he laughs breathily and embarrassed from behind him,

“In college.”

Katya painted in college. He tries to wrap his drunken mind around the concept, Katya in a sunlit or maybe moonlit studio with paint smudged into the lines on his hands.

“You’re good. Like. Can I buy this?” Trixie turns and asks earnestly.

Katya bursts out into a shrieking laugh, “You’re drunk. Get in the shower.” Trixie barely manages to catch the towel that’s flung in his direction.

“No! Let me buy it. You’re going to sell this to me because it’s so fucking good and I never think art is good. Truly.”

“If you’re going to give me genuine compliments in this house you have to leave.”

Katya’s face is so serious for a second that Trixie let’s out a scream of laugher.

“You’re terrible!” He says, giggling in delight.

“You can stay.” Katya winks and shows him to the bathroom.

Trixie washes the last dregs of makeup off his face with Katya’s dish liquid in the shower and says a silent prayer for his skin to not break out. He’s cosy and happy stepping out into the lounge room. The couch is made up and inviting. Trixie flops down and runs his hand over the downy pillow while reaching out to sip from the glass of water Katya had left for him.

“I’m just going to shower, there’s some leftover pizza in the fridge if you’re hungry.” Katya calls, hovering outside the bathroom. Trixie nods, entranced by the feeling of the soft pillowcase beneath his fingers as he traces repetitive circles. It occurs to him slowly that tonight might have been the best he’d had in months. Sitting in a booth, drinking whiskey while Katya drank orange juice and laughing so loud that people kept shooting them looks. His lips turn up at the memory and he drifts into a light doze, sitting upright on the couch.

He starts when the sound of the bathroom door announces Katya’s presence.

“You look so warm right now.” Trixie blurts as eyes roam over him. Katya wears a black shirt and grey sweats and his blonde hair is all damp and-

“Are you cold out here? I have a heater somewhere, I’m pretty sure…” He trails off but before he can start looking through the boxes Trixie jumps up and makes his way over, bumping a shoulder against him.

“Can’t we just cuddle in your bed instead?”

Katya lets out a startled laugh before trailing his arm around Trixie’s shoulder. He whispers mock-seductively into his ear, “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you to ask me that, Tracy.”

Then they’re walking into Katya’s room, which is dark but for the soft light of the street outside illuminating the vague shape of a bed. Trixie crawls into it and waits for Katya who’s gone back to turn the other lights off in the apartment. The sheets smell all Katya-like and he buries his face into a pillow, the weight of tiredness crashing over him like rough surf.

“Let me in, Mama.” Katya says as he slides into the bed, his body warm at Trixie’s side.

“Mmmm” Trixie hums and buries his face into Katya’s neck, wrapping an arm around his middle and edging a knee between his legs. He breathes him in, smokey and familiar, lazily pressing a light kiss to his neck.

“We probably shouldn’t have sex, right?” Katya asks, fingers trailing along Trixie’s arm leaving tingling paths on his skin.

“Probably not.” Trixie agrees, sleepily.

“We could though. I mean. If you wanted.” Katya says. He can feel Katya’s heart beating hard and his breath catches. Trixie lifts his head, and looks up at him. The other mans gaze is intense and Trixie feels bold as he leans in and their lips meet cautiously, once, twice and then Katya is opening his lips and his hands are wandering up to cradle Trixie’s face, and Trixie is filled with a sudden need. He straddles Katya and his fingers find their way into his mess of soft hair and their breaths are quickening and he’s wondering why they’ve never done this before until-

Trixie breaks away from the kiss and pulls back. Katya’s bright eyes roam his face, questioning.

“We really shouldn’t.” He’s still breathing heavily and everything in him is aching to kiss Katya again but he carefully unwinds his limbs from around his body. He lays back down across from him and picks at Katya’s shirt, head resting on his own hand as he maps his face with his eyes. He’d never noticed the light smattering of freckles before, but his eyes are adjusted to the dark now and the noticing makes his heart twinge.

“If we sleep together, it’s going to fuck things up.” He swallows hard.

Katya flinches but nods.

“Definitely a bad idea. I’ll get bored of you in what, three weeks?” Trixie tries not to notice the slight tremor in his voice.

“More like two.” He tries a laugh but it flattens.

He brushes his fingers lightly along Katya’s jaw and tries to convey something in that. Sorry. Or, I know. Or, I love you.

“Come here, then, Solnyshko.” Katya murmurs and makes room for Trixie to scoot into his chest.

He turns over and backs into him, warm in his embrace. Katya’s breath is tickling against the back of his neck and Trixie’s heart feels heavy and he tries not to read into the way Katya’s thumb is tracing patterns on the back of his hand. Does he do that with all the people he brings into this bed? Does it matter?

Katya says he doesn’t believe in love. Trixie isn’t sure that he does either lately. He pulls Katya’s arm tighter into his chest like he can be held together and struggles to recapture the sense of tiredness from earlier. His mind takes too long to stop racing. Eventually, though, Katya’s rising and falling chest against his back and the soft hum of the cars outside lulls him into a blank, dreamless sleep.


	2. One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Miss you all the time, Tracy.”
> 
> “Yeah. Yeah. Me too.”

Trixie checks the time again, his leg shaking impatiently. When he looks up Pearl is smirking at him. Jerk. His disinterest in the conversation happening must be obvious, but he can’t muster enough energy to have an opinion on wigs right now. 

The booth they’re in is almost full, table littered with half empty glasses and heavily picked at fries. The show finished a couple of hours ago and someone decided instead of picking up trade they should all bond or something. Trixie thinks privately that the tour most of them are leaving on together in a week is going to provide enough time for that, but he likes getting drunk after shows, and Katya’s coming to meet them, so.

“No, no,” Jinkx is saying, “I first met her in like 2006 and I was terrified. She asked me if I was sick because I looked so nervous. I told her I had a stomach flu even though I didn’t and she avoided me the whole rest of the night because she thought I was some contagious monster.” The group erupts into laughter and Trixie takes the moment to slide out of the booth and head to the bathroom.

Walking back he expertly dodges people carrying drinks back from the bar. Katya’s in his spot, gesturing wildly, the group captivated. They lock eyes when he’s almost there and Katya stops talking to jump up, closing the distance between them in a few steps

“Hey-” Trixie starts to say, but Katya slams into him with a hug. The breath knocks out of him in a laugh and he wraps Katya up in his arms.

“Nice to smell your wretched odour again.” Trixie murmurs.

“Go to hell every single day.” Katya retorts, a fond smile in his voice.

“I can’t help but notice I didn’t get that reception from you, miss Katya.” Ginger calls out. They laugh and Trixie flicks Ginger the finger over Katya’s shoulder.

“My friendship with you isn’t paying for my retirement, Ginge.” Katya calls back.

“You’re an idiot.” Trixie says affectionately, pushing Katya lightly away. He slides into the booth and pats the space next to him, Katya sits down, quickly snakes his arm around Trixie’s waist.

Trixie jolts at the pinch on his ribs, looks accusingly at Katya who just leans in to his ear and whispers all breathy, “I missed you” before moving his hands back to his drink. Trixie takes a deep sip of his own.

“Where’d you fly in from?” Pearl asks Katya.

“Minneapolis, darling.” Katya says in a mock posh accent, making a flippant gesture with his hand. Pearl sniggers.

“I have been meaning to get down there,” Trixie says, adopting the affect. Katya whacks his arm excitedly and he continues, “I hear there’s a grand little place where you can get fur coats made of critically endangered animals.”

“God. You both cross the line from almost unbearable to fully unbearable when you’re together. You know that?” Pearl groans.

“Thank you very much!” Katya grins.

Trixie reaches for a fry, pops it in his mouth and listens as Aja talks about the weird packages that have been showing up at his apartment. The tightness in his chest is starting to fade. Maybe it’s the booze or maybe it’s the way Katya has a hold of his thigh and squeezes it every time he laughs. It could be the way Katya makes everyone else seem radiant just by being in the room with him. Regardless, it’s fading.

“How’s that guy… Ben? Was that his name?” Pearl asks across the table, a while later.

Everyone else is engrossed in conversation, Katya and Aja are avidly discussing the pro’s and con’s of natural deodorant products, Jinkx, Ginger and Naomi are all talking about something but from this side of the booth Trixie can’t hear.

He hesitates a moment, uncomfortably conscious of the fact that he’s not mentioned Ben to Katya yet. He’s only seen him a few times. It’s not weird.

“Ben is… nice. Good. He’s good.” Trixie says, scrambles for something else to talk about. It’s just because it’s new. He doesn’t want to go around talking about it yet. It might not even be anything yet. Pearl pulls a face.

“You doing the tour in the UK?” He asks, nervously fiddling with his straw.

Pearl nods, “Not the whole thing. Just the first six days.”

“Always knew you were a quitter. Fame was so right about you.” He teases.

“God. You’re such a bitch.” Pearl rolls his eyes.

“Can we get out of here?” Naomi asks suddenly over the din of conversation. “A club? I don’t know about all of you but I want to get laid, like, four hours ago.“ 

There’s a chorus of agreement.

"I'mma head to my hotel, girls.” Ginger says.

“Yeah, I’m going home too.” Trixie says. He looks sideways to Katya, but he’s still talking to Aja.

There’s a flurry as everyone grabs their phones and keys from the table and starts getting up. Trixie stands up and takes a few steps to get out of the way. He struggles with the zip on his jacket for a moment, dimly aware of people saying goodbyes and starting to move off.

The zip finally comes unstuck and he turns back to the booth but everyone’s gone. Arms crossed, Trixie makes his way to the exit, accidently bumping into a few people and muttering apologies that they can’t hear over the music. 

He breathes deeply when he makes it out onto the sidewalk, pulls out his phone to order a car home.

Something bumps against him as he’s looking at the screen. Flinching, he looks up.

“Thought you left.” Trixie says around a smile, his shoulders relaxing. Katya grins.

“I waited for you, Mama. Want to walk it? Crash with me?” Katya asks, pulling a cigarette out of his pack and already starting off in the direction of his apartment.

Trixie jogs a few steps to catch up.

The night becomes quieter and stiller as they put distance between themselves and the bar. Something about the sound of their footsteps echoing in the streets and Katya’s smoke in the clear air feels magic. Trixie follows it with his eyes, scans the sky for stars. In Wisconsin they felt so close.

“You ever miss home?” Trixie asks.

Katya is quiet for a bit, thinking. Trixie counts their steps, seven, eight, nine.

“I mostly miss feeling like I live somewhere.” He replies.

Trixie frowns.

“Was that too much?” Katya trills with a cackle. He breaks into a skip for a few steps, jumps and clicks his heels together.

“Serving Lord of the Dance realness.” Trixie laughs and clicks his tongue.

“Yes GAWD!” Katya calls. He puts his hands on his hips and starts some jumping and kicking that could be identified as Irish dancing. Maybe.

“I wish you were coming next week.” Trixie breathes when he’s stopped laughing and Katya’s slowed back into a walk. He reaches out and intertwines their fingers, Katya gives his hand a squeeze and hums.

“Miss you all the time, Tracy.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Me too.”

“Want to help me paint fans when we get home?” Katya asks, miming fanning himself with the other hand.

“Want to paint fans while I sleep?” Trixie counters.

Katya makes a high-pitched whining noise, yanking Trixie’s hand. He laughs.

“Oh my god. Oh my god. Okay.”

Katya paints and Trixie lays on the floor, head propped up by a pillow and leg’s stretched across Katya’s lap. Some tv show is playing quietly from a laptop and Trixie watches hazily as Katya paints eyeballs all over a fan, sticking glitter to the irises. His face is all concentrated and Trixie is kind of mesmerized by his hollow cheeks in the orange light coming from a lamp in the corner. His eyes drift out of focus, the sound of silk under a paintbrush soothing-

“Trix.” Katya is whispering, lightly rubbing his knees.

Trixie groans and his eyes flicker open.

“Come on.” Katya murmurs. He pulls him up, all gentle, and leads him to the bedroom. Trixie’s feet feel too heavy as he trails after him.

He crawls into the bed, eyes shut and waiting for Katya so he can cuddle him.

“Hey, Tracy?”

He makes an approximate affirmative noise low in his chest.

“Who’s Ben?”

Trixie’s eyes snap open, Katya’s silhouette outlined standing by the bed.

He falters for a second, confused.

“Why…”

Katya let’s out a quiet laugh.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I’m asking.” He says.

Trixie squeezes his eyes shut tight for a second. He’s not totally convinced by the light tone but also not convinced that Katya is asking what he’s asking. If it implies something. If it doesn’t. 

“He’s no one, Kat. Can you…” He trails off, motions his head to the bed in front of him.

Katya climbs in, weight dipping the mattress and pushing them together. Trixie holds him, sleepily, messily, like he’s something precious. In the morning he has meetings, Katya has a flight, but that plain and fond feeling of holding, of being held; it lingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set like... 6 months after the prologue. I PROBABLY could have made that clear but I'm here to make it unclear.


	3. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katya’s laughing.
> 
> "Knowing I get to come back and make things I love with you is, honestly, the only reason I haven’t run off to live a quiet life in the country already.” He finishes.
> 
> “Oh Trixie.” Katya murmurs, laughter quickly cut off. “You break my heart."

From: Katya 6:09am

_When do you come home? Asking for a friend_

To: Katya 6:11am

_I hate your friends. It’s today, but will you lie to them for me?_

From: Katya 6:12am

_Girl, you know I don’t actually have any._

To: Katya 6:12am

_I told you to try wearing deodorant; I really think that’s the main problem._

To: Katya 6:12am

_Are you in LA? Why are you awake?_

From: Katya 6:13am

_Just fucked a guy with a great ass…_

_Reminded me of you xx_

To: Katya 6:13am

_OH MY GOD. BYE._

Trixie groans and locks his phone.

“What’s wrong?” Ben mumbles, nuzzling into Trixie’s back.

“Nothing. Katya being an idiot.” Trixie says. He turns over, watches for a flicker of something to cross his face. It doesn’t.

It’s a sign of how rough the tour’s been that he feels better than he has in weeks after five and a half hours of sleep. He reaches out and lightly brushes the hair from Ben’s forehead back. He doesn’t have shadows under his eyes and his cheeks are rosy from the cool air coming through the window he cracked last night. Trixie realizes he’s staring and he looks quickly away to one of the ugly paintings on the wall.

“Speaking of,” says Ben, “my friends all want to meet you.” He looks up at Trixie coyly.

He gasps, “I didn’t know they could afford my meet and greet?"

Ben groans and swiftly pulls the pillow from underneath his head, holds it over his face like he’s trying to suffocate himself.

Trixie laughs, shakes his shoulder.

"Please don’t. I can’t go down for another murder. I can’t go back to prison!” He pleads.

“You deserve to.” Ben’s muffled voice groans.

Trixie sighs and thinks for a moment. He props himself up on an elbow and pulls the pillow away. Ben watches him, blue eyes steady and soft.

“I’d love to meet them.” Trixie says. Ben grins, brings his hand to rest on the back of Trixie’s neck and brushes their lips together, once, twice, before deepening the kiss and making Trixie’s skin tingle.

“I don’t want to get out of bed.” Trixie whispers between kisses.

“Miss your flight.” Ben murmurs conspiratorially, brushes the pad of his thumb along Trixie’s jaw.

“Okay.” He says, even as he’s pulling away.  

The hotel room is mostly dark. Dull light outlines the heavy curtains. Trixie makes his way around the room, picking his things off the floor, off the backs of chairs, ready to repack. The motions are familiar. He can feel Ben watching him.

“You were so good last night.” He says.

“A good last show. I’m glad you could come."

"They loved you."

"Don’t get my head too big.” Trixie hides a smile, deft hands packing his drag from the night before into the full suitcase.

“I can’t make any promises.” Ben says.

Twenty minutes later, showered and almost out the door with his bags, Trixie stops.

“Ben?"

"Yeah?” He says, head turned from where it rested on a pillow.

“This is nice.” It’s not a question, exactly, though he’s aware of how his voice goes up at the end. Always a hint of unsure.

“Yes,” Ben smiles, “This is nice."

Trixie nods. Falters for a moment before nodding again and easing the door closed.

-

"Early flight?” The driver asks in a thick accent as Trixie slides into the back seat, his suitcase in the boot.

“Unfortunately.” Trixie smiles politely.

“Where you headed?"

"LA.” Trixie says.

“Not one of those.” The driver groans.

“Unfortunately one of those.” He says, trying not to roll his eyes. New Yorkers.

“What’s so good about-” The driver starts. He’s cut off by Trixie’s phone vibrating with a call. He smiles apologetically to the rear view as he answers it. The driver waves a dismissive hand and looks back to the road.

“Still awake?” Trixie smirks.

“I never said I had my life together.” Katya says. His voice is all gravelled and hollow. Trixie frowns. Waits a moment. All he can hear is Katya’s familiar, light, irregular breathing. He always sounds like that. Sometimes Trixie wonder’s if his lungs forget their motions, if they’re distracted by other things.

“Are things okay? It’s late, Katya.” He asks eventually, breaking the silence. It’s 4-something-am in Katya’s apartment. There’s a photo of them together on the bedside table, framed in garish, glittery pink. There’s a small stack of paperbacks there, too. Trixie's pulling at the skin around his fingernails, his Mom always berated him for that habit.

“Oh, you know.” Katya says. “A general sense of anxiety and mild sleep disorder never stops me. Except when it does."

Trixie laughs. Katya laughs too, which is good.

"How’s the boy?” Katya asks.

“He’s really… sweet. He might be a serial killer. There’s got to be something.” Trixie says, small smile playing at his lips.

“Scientologist? Really into pet rats? Only eats yellow foods? Enjoys spending time with his happy family?"

"That last one is truly frightening."

Katya huffs out a laugh.

"He came to New York for you, though? That seems…” Katya lets out a slow breath, “serious?"

"No, no.” Trixie says, urgently. “He has a few weeks on a writing job here."

"Ah."

There’s a shuffle as Katya adjust the phone. He must be tired. The soft skin under his eyes must be purpled. Trixie swallows.

"I’m not saying I don’t like touring-"

"You don’t.” Katya interrupts.

“You are so- Okay. Okay. I’m not saying I hate touring. Happy?" Trixie grumbles.

Katya’s laughing.

"Knowing I get to come back and make things I love with you is, honestly, the only reason I haven’t run off to live a quiet life in the country already.” He finishes.

“Oh Trixie.” Katya murmurs, laughter quickly cut off. “You break my heart."

Katya’s sheets rustle and Trixie has a sudden, aching, longing to be there.

"I’m thinking we do college, conspiracy theories and arts and crafts.” He says, clearing his throat.

“I would also like to discuss aged care facilities and street harassment.” He can hear the smile in Katya’s voice. Almost feels the way his cheeks lift the phone.

They keep talking the rest of the way to the airport; the quiet stretches between words lengthening out as Katya starts to drift off.

When the driver has passed Trixie his suitcase and driven off, he stands for a moment on the pavement outside the terminal, phone pressed close to his ear. He feels, for a moment, like he’s in a time lapse. Everything around him is going in quick, jagged movements while he is still.

“See you tomorrow.” He whispers.

“Mm-hmm.” Katya hums.

He waits a few seconds. Listens to the quiet before he hangs up and heads to check his bag. He pays no attention to the nervous fluttering in the pit of his stomach.

-

Kim comes over that night, arms full of Indian takeout and bags from the fabric shop.

They get a little drunk and eat too much and Kim sews while Trixie works his way around his apartment cleaning dust off everything and half watching House Hunters.

“Imagine telling us when we first met that we’d end up here.” Trixie says wistfully, tipsily, lifting the TV remote off the coffee table to wipe it over.

“What I wouldn’t give to tell you how you’d be eliminated twice from drag race. To see your face crumple with disappointment.” Kim says, readjusting the fabric and not even looking up.

“Shut up. I’m having a moment, Kimberly."

"Okay. Get it over with, then."

"We’re in LA, we do what we love every day and people actually care about it. We used to spend more money getting dinner after gigs than we made performing." He says.

"Actually I think I still spend more money on dinner.” Kim laughs. Trixie picks up a scrap of fabric and tries to throw it but it just kind of floats back to the floor in front of him.

He sighs, rocks back onto the couch and sips his beer. The sewing machine resumes it’s humming and he pulls out his phone, checking his messages.

From: Shea 10:46pm

_Look at her fucking wig_

Attached is a picture of Pearl with a fan. They’re up against a brick wall, probably outside a club. The middle part on Pearl’s wig sits dangerously to the left. Trixie snorts.

To: Shea 11:04pm

_Ssssssshea you snake_

He goes back to his messages, scrolls down.

From: Ben 10:14pm

_Hope you’re having a good night. Miss your face x_

Trixie smiles and sends back a heart. It’s sappy and gross but god he loves this stuff.

“Don’t remind me I said this when he breaks my heart later, but things might actually work out with Ben.” He says.

Kim laughs.

“You never know. He has lasted one tour. That’s better than Gabe, right?"

Gabe had lasted almost two. He actually hadn’t had a problem with the distance, compared with other things. Trixie doesn’t correct him.

"Yeah. Want another drink?” Kim makes an affirmative sound, frowns at the hem he’s sewing, distracted. Trixie stands and pads to the kitchen. He pops off the caps to two more beers and leans back on the bench for a moment, looking around the room for anything he’s missed cleaning.

There are a few smudges on the window, and the blinds could probably do with a dusting. His eyes fall on Katya’s painting where it hangs on the wall.

-

_“If you were lying about liking it please don’t tell me.”_

_Katya watches him unwrapping it, leaning against the counter and worrying his bottom lip between his index finger and thumb._

_“I can’t believe you remembered.” Trixie breathes, eyes pouring over the painting, the thick brush strokes layered coarsely to create the figure. He might cry. He definitely shouldn’t cry. It’s the best thing he’s ever been given._

_“It was- uh, quite a night. Kind of hard to forget, actually.” Katya laughs._

_Trixie freezes. His face is quickly flushing red, he can feel it happening and he can’t do anything to stop it. He looks up at Katya, slowly. The wrapping paper falls to the floor, ignored._

_Light streams through the kitchen window and bathes him golden and he’s looking at Trixie with a plain, open focus. He’d laughed, but after a moment of eye contact his expression is almost scared. Trixie exhales, shakily, and carefully places the painting on the bench top._

_He’s being impulsive and he takes a step forward and Katya’s eyes flick down to his lips. Trixie reaches up and cups his face, the stubble tickling at his fingers._

_He kisses him in the daylight._

_Katya pulls away first. He breathes out something Trixie can’t quite catch, less than a whisper and warm against his mouth. He jerks his head a little and Trixie’s eyes flutter open. He drops his hand, fingers flexing._

_“It was the first time you came over, wasn’t it? Can’t forget that.” Katya says, clearing his throat. Trixie stares as he pulls back and turns to get a glass from the cupboard. Trixie steps away, watches him fill it with water. He feels sick._

_Later, it occurs to him, what Katya had said._

_“I’m sorry.”_

- 

He walks back to the living room, passes Kim the beer and flops down onto the couch.

“God. Did they really just choose house two?” He groans.

-

_I’m the two years of your childhood when you had stress nosebleeds_

_I’m that lipstick on your teeth that means you’re not getting laid tonight_

_I’m the hotel OJ Simpson robbed_

_I’m here with some upsetting news but I’m going to say it in a sexy, sexy voice_

“And don’t forget to subscribe…"

”…To WOW presents!“ Katya trills. She grins across at Trixie as she pulls up the bottom of her dress to dab the shine from her forehead, fully exposing her crotch.

"I should be present-ed with an award for putting up with you.” Trixie says.  

“Chris, can we organize that?” Katya looks around the room, earnest expression on her face. Trixie watches her out of the corner of her eye, smiling, waiting for it to register.

Katya let’s out a shriek and reaches out to whack Trixie on the arm.

Trixie grabs hold of Katya’s hands in midair and pulls them in to wrap around her throat. Katya’s eyes go cartoon-wide and she sucks a breath in through her teeth.

“Organize killing me right now." Trixie deadpans, trying to contain a smirk.

Not missing a beat, Katya dips in and kisses her quickly on the cheek, her fingers lightly cupped around Trixie’s neck.  

"Oh my god.” Trixie groans, face burning.

“We’re good. Wrapped.” Someone calls out from behind the camera. Trixie gingerly pats at her cheek, transferring a red stain onto her fingers. She frowns at it.  

“Before you start,” Katya is saying, picking her props off the ground, “you’re about to take off your makeup."

Trixie rolls her eyes as she stands up and stretches.

"So, the lipstick is a non-issue.” She continues. Someone shuts the studio lights off.

“More importantly,” Trixie’s trying not to laugh as she picks up the makeup bag she keeps with her on set.

“I wanted to do it, and I’m not going to apologize for being real.” Katya finishes, white girl voice in full force and dumb grin on her face.

Trixie chats animatedly about the last few nights of tour in their usual cluttered and off-yellow dressing room as they take off their makeup. The sun is low in the sky and an orange glow bathes the room. Katya finishes before she does and sits curled in a worn leather armchair that probably used to be in someone’s corner office. He looks more angular than usual, Trixie realizes. Elbows all jutting out and hollow cheeks.

“What?” Katya asks, weird half smile on his face.

Trixie shakes his head. He’s got to work on not staring. He pulls a sweater over his head.

“Nothing. Shall we?” Trixie asks. His bag sits, zipped up and full to the brim, on the floor by the doorway. He grabs his wallet and phone from the front compartment and looks back at Katya.

Hesitation flickers over his face and Trixie pauses, raises an eyebrow.

“I, uh, I thought I mentioned it but I told Willam I’d film something with her tonight."

"Out of drag?” Trixie frowns.

“Yeah. I don’t really know the details.” Katya says, looking at his phone.

“Oh. Well-"

"Sorry. I know we usually… got to ride those coattails though. Carpe the business opportunities, or whatever.” Katya trails off.

“Yeah. Of course.” Trixie says.

He stands there stupidly for a moment but Katya’s still looking at his phone.

“Okay. I’ll see you in a few days?” He asks, picking up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

“Yeah, girl. Of course."

Trixie waits for him to get up and say goodbye but he doesn’t. It’s okay.

-

As much as he complains about his apartment (too small, too expensive, too sparsely furnished) it has great acoustics.

Trixie sits on the floor and plucks at the strings of his guitar and the ringing echo is lovely. It makes the notes swell and crash like waves and fills the space with sound. He hums along, trying to work out the timing and plucking pattern. When it’s starting to sound right he stops, takes a sip of whiskey and pulls up his phone to get the lyrics.

Looking quickly through his notifications he sees one from Instagram. Willam posting to his story for the first time in a while. He grins as he swipes on it.

Willam's face appears, chewing gum and talking loud over the background noise. A bar, maybe.

"Houston, what the fuck? Apparently there are still some tickets available for tonight. Get them right now. I’m a big fucking deal. South Beach. You know where it is.” Then there’s the muffled sound of her fingers fumbling with ending the video for a second, and it’s gone. Someone else's story starts, the view from a plane window. Trixie swipes it away.

Something in him has sunk and he takes a deep sip from the glass, grimacing. He drains it and stands on unsure feet, grabbing his phone. Trixie stands in his living room with fingers hovering on the call icon and a lump in his throat. He shouldn’t call Katya. He shouldn’t. Instead he refills his glass and calls Kim.

“Heyyyy! It’s Tiffany!” Kim slurs. There’s a trace of thumping from somewhere in the background, blended with indistinct chatter.

“Hey. Hi.” Trixie sits down again, pushing his guitar out of the way.

“What’s up?” Kim chirps.

“Can I talk to you? For a second?"

Kim calls out to someone, "Be back in a moment! No! I’ll just be outside!"

Trixie waits. He curls his knees up under his chin, tracks Kim’s way out the door of whatever club he’s in from the way the noise ebbs.

"Okay, I’m outside. What’s going on?"

"This is stupid. Sorry. I just realized it’s stupid. You’re having fun and I-"

"Trixie, what the hell is going on?” Kim cuts him off. He actually sounds concerned and Trixie almost laughs.

He takes a sip of whiskey and takes a deep breath in.

“I think Katya, um, lied to me today. Like, to avoid me. I don’t know.” It's embarrassing, saying it out loud. He’s grateful that Kim isn’t sober.

He thinks he hears a sigh.  

“I don’t think she’d do that, Trixie. I don’t want to inflate your ego but she’s, uh, obsessed with you. It’s gross, actually."

His fingers run over a spot where the floorboard is scratched and he picks at it a little, pricking the skin under his nail. He swears under his breath.

"No. It definitely happened.” He swallows, “I don’t know what I did."

Someone beeps on the street outside his apartment. It doesn’t quite cover the quake in his voice.

"I’m talking to Trixie!” Kim shouts into his ear.

“What?” He frowns.

“She’s having a crisis with her man. Leave me alone!" Trixie can hear Kim and someone else laughing, the phone being fumbled.

"Hey, Trixie? The conversation inside has, it seems, died without me.” Kim says.

“Go work your verbal magic, then."

"Sorry. Hey. Just ask her about it. Communication is, as Dr. Phil says, important."

A heavy door is pulled open, then there's a scuffling sound and his phone beeps twice, the call ended.

He leans back against the wall and looks at the ceiling with a shaky exhale. He tries to remind himself about perspective but perspective is a hard concept when you’re six-ish shots of whiskeys in and things were going well a few minutes ago. Weren’t they?

He jumps at the hard vibration of his phone against the wooden floor, fumbles for it quickly. He blinks at the name on the screen. Ben. He only hesitates a second before hitting the red button. When Ben calls again he does the same. And when he hits call on Katya’s number, forty minutes later, the ringing sounding like self-sabotage, he doesn’t hang up.


	4. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I know I fucked things up last year and I know we didn’t really talk about it.” 
> 
> Moving to his bedroom, Trixie pauses at that. 
> 
> “No, we didn’t.”

Sitting on the kitchen bench, Trixie looks out at the empty street with his phone pressed to his ear. There’s a reckless dread thumping through him.  _Just ask her about it._ The dial tone feels endless, each ring making Trixie feel more nervous. Just fucking confront the issue, Firkus.

“Hello?” Katya says, his voice thick with sleep.

The fight slips out of him like a breath.

“Trixie?”

Digging his nails into the fleshy part of his palm Trixie takes a deep breath in, trying to muster something up.

“Filming something? Really?” He asks and his voice sounds more uncertain than accusing, “I thought that after everything last year- that things were okay. The past few months… I thought we were okay.”

It’s not what he was planning.

Katya breathes out slowly, evenly. He doesn’t sound surprised that Trixie’s called to say it when he replies, just tired. “I’m sorry about tonight.”

Trixie’s eyes well with tears, the lights outside blur with them, and he is suddenly very, very tired.

“This is embarrassing. I can’t even leave you alone when you want me to.” He says with a sniff.

“Do you want me to come over? I’ll come over.” Katya says urgently. There’s a rustling of sheets in the background affirming that the offer is genuine.

Trixie shakes his head quicky before realising he’s alone.

“No. No, don’t.”

“If you need me to I’ll come over. Calling you late at night is kind of my gig, you do realise?” There’s a hint of a smile now beneath the worry. Katya trying to lighten the mood. Trixie laughs and a tear splashes down onto his cheek that he swipes at.

“Don’t come over, Kathy. I haven’t cleaned the house for guests.” Trixie replies. He slides off the bench.

“I didn’t want to upset you.” Katya hesitates, swinging the topic back. “You didn’t do anything.”

“Okay.” He says, flicking the light off and plunging the house into murky darkness.

“I know I fucked things up last year and I know we didn’t really talk about it.”

Moving to his bedroom, Trixie pauses at that.

“No, we didn’t.”

“I think about it all the time.”

The words punch him in the stomach. He’s had this conversation so many times over in his head and now he can’t even say anything.

Trixie crawls into bed, fumbles with the phone to put it on speaker and lets his eyes close as he tries to calm his breathing.

“I think about it too.” He manages after a while.

“I know things are different for you now. I don’t want to ruin that.” Katya murmurs.

Nothing is different. Not really. Trixie’s eyes brim with tears again at the realisation. He turns his face into the pillow.

“I don’t know.” He chokes, muffled.

He can hear the telltale signs of Katya smoking. He feels guilty for waking him up, for stressing him out, for letting the boundaries blur again, for-

“I don’t want you to leave me alone.” Katya breaks into his thoughts. “You said that before. I don’t want that.”

“Good.” Trixie whispers, heart wrenching. “I can’t.”

“I should have called you, when I was away.”

“I wish you would have.”

“I was scared.”

“Me too.”

_-_

_Trixie is tipsy, climbing the stairs and clinging to the wall. He’s also late but Shea had had her set pushed back and, truthfully, he wasn’t in a rush to get there. It had been easy to send a ‘sorry, I’ll be late’ text and to let excited boys buy him drinks. He didn’t feel like he could handle the night sober and he only regrets it now, stumbling and tired and with a blanket sense of having done something wrong._

_He has a key, entrusted to him after an unfortunate ‘locked keys inside the apartment when the housemate was away overnight’ situation. When he opens the door Katya jolts awake on the couch._

_“Shit. I’m sorry,” Trixie winces._

_He walks in, softly as he can, closing the door behind him. Katya’s face transforms with a smile but an almost imperceptible furrow remains between his brows. He’s curled up on the couch, a sweater draped over his lap that it looks like he’s been using as a blanket. A suitcase sits zipped up in front of the coffee table. Trixie tries not to look at it._

_“You interrupted my beauty sleep.” Katya says with a yawn and readjusts himself into a more upright position._

_Trixie smiles and sits cross-legged opposite him with his back resting on the arm of the couch._

_“Isn’t this more of a ‘fell asleep waiting for my teenager to get home from the party’ situation?”_

_When Katya laughs their knees touch. Trixie scoots forward, just a little, to keep the contact._

_“I don’t like being called Mom anymore.” He smirks._

_Trixie rolls his eyes and shuffles down on the couch so that his head rests on the arm. He stretches his legs out across Katya’s lap._

_“You have a good night?” Katya asks with his fingers ambling aimlessly up over Trixie’s legs._

_He was supposed to be there hours ago. Supposed to help Katya pack before he left for three months on tour. It’s a physical ache more than a sadness. Katya’s leaving and everything already feels so fragile._

_“Kept getting bought drinks.” Trixie replies._

_The suitcase is still there as much as he wills it not to be so he looks up with shaky vision at Katya instead. That crinkle of a frown still hasn’t gone away. Trixie closes his eyes and tries to quash a desire to smooth a thumb over it._

_“I’m sorry that I-” He starts._

_“No, no. I get it.” Katya waves a hand, it comes to rest back warm on his knee._

_“In the vein of apologies,” Katya says. His hands have stilled. “The other day-”_

_Trixie squeezes his eyes shut again and tries to block out the image of Katya in his kitchen, turning away, the taste of him still lingering._

_“I don’t want to talk about that right now.” He whispers._

_“Trixie, Trixie, Trixie.” His thighs are being gripped with urgency. “It wasn’t because I- It wasn’t what you thought.”_

_He manages a nod. Everything is confusing and dizzying behind his eyes and he really, really doesn’t want to think about it anymore._

_“Can we go to bed?” He asks after a while of heavy quiet, opens his eyes to catch Katya giving a curt nod._

_It’s become familiar, this routine._

_Lights off, window half open and Trixie pulls on the sweatpants he keeps here and a washed-soft Katya shirt from four years ago. Some clattering is coming from the bathroom down the hall. He lays back on the bed, feet resting on the ground, and lets out a deep breath. He imagines that he can hear crickets, though it’s probably distant helicopters._

_Footsteps pad to the room after a while and Trixie props himself up on his elbows. The sheets press divots into his skin. Trixie considers his words as Katya hesitates in the doorway after flicking the hall light off. The air feels heavy, thick like syrup with tension._

_“What time do you need to be up tomorrow?” He asks lamely, like he’s asking what some friend of his sisters does for a living at a barbecue._

_Katya frowns and cocks his head to the side slightly and then he’s laughing. Trixie stares. Peals of it ring out, shaking his frame. He might have finally lost his mind._

_“This-” Katya sighs as his laughter dies out, “this is stupid. I don’t want to go away from you, Trixie.” He takes a step toward the bed. “Physically or, or, any type of way and I don’t want tonight to be all-”_

_Katya won’t break eye contact, is walking purposefully and slowly toward him. Trixie’s heart is suddenly thundering, a roar in his ears as he leans back against the mattress._

_“It just felt. The other day it just felt-” He says as he comes to a stop, legs against the bed either side of Trixies and hovering over him, “too much.”_

_Katya reaches a hand out to him but hesitates. It hangs in the air like a question mark._

_“I couldn’t stop thinking about how much-” Katya murmurs with a shake of his head._

_Trixie is holding his breath when he intertwines their fingers together and tugs Katya forward._

_Katya straddles him, then. Cradles his face and kisses him with a bruising intensity. Trixie melts into it, lips parting for him with a shaky heart and then Katya is everywhere._

_“Katya.” Trixie breathes and digs his fingers into his biceps, needing to hold onto something. They kiss and kiss and no one pulls away and no one watches it happen when he nips at Katya’s bottom lip and smiles at the noise it elicits._

_“Katya.” He lets out again against his lips. He bucks up, already getting hard, and scratches his nails lightly down Katya’s forearms._

_Everywhere Katya touches feels like it’s been set ablaze. They grind into each other, Katya purring against his lips and then a palm is pressed between them against his dick through his pants. Katya cups him like that for a few moments and it’s agonising._

_Trixie whines, seeking friction, and earns a soft laugh. He growls and reaches down to grab Katya’s ass, pulling him in harder against him._

_“Fuck, Trixie.” Katya hisses and then his hand is working down Trixie’s pants and around him, hot and gripping him just right._

_Katya’s kissing his jaw, now, their bodies pressed flush together and it’s hot breath and it’s electric and entirely too much. Trixie moans all ragged and Katya grinds down against his thigh, jerking his hand faster._

_“You” He groans, teeth scraping against skin, “scare the hell” he’s breathing it against Trixie’s ear now, “out of me.”_

_Trixie pulls him closer, somehow they get closer, and then Katya squeezes with a few stokes and he’s bucking into it and reaching a hand up to twine into Katya’s hair and he’s cumming with a broken sound against his neck. His head flops down against the mattress as he breathes for a second, warmth radiating through his body._

_“God.” Katya says throatily, watching him with a wide, awed expression on his face._

_Trixie laughs shakily and edges Katya’s pants down around his thighs, wraps a hand around him and tugs. Katya swears, his fingers pressing hard at the nape of his neck, the other hand still bracing him up._

_“Trix-” He pleads._

_“I know.” Trixie whispers. “I know.”_

_He works him messily and quickly and Katya looks so beautiful in the dim light, his eyelids fluttering. Swollen, wet lips parted as almost silent whimpers seep through them._

_When he moves down to kiss him again Trixie could cry for the feeling, the way he realises he’d already been missing it._

_He flicks his wrist faster, demanding. Katya’s moans vibrate and rumble in his mouth as he cums warm over his fingers._

_Katya kind of collapses into him, then. Head buried into his neck and pressing his lips to the skin there lazily. Trixie’s arms are around his back and fingers soothe circles under his shirt where it’s ridden up. His head is both empty and rushing at the same time but the night is purple and sacred and Katya is still there- at least until the sun comes up._

_-_

A horn blasts through the thin window pane from the street outside. It feels like someone smashing into his ear drums.

Trixie groans, reaching around wildly for his phone to check the time. It’s underneath a pillow, out of battery. They must have fallen asleep on the call. He plugs it in, stomach flipping, and pads his way to the bathroom.

The environmental good he’s done by being a vegetarian must have earned him at least three long pity showers per year. Katya would say that nothing was real and any proverbial good you accrued was meaningless but, then, he always over-tipped and remembered his reusable coffee cup and tried to make babies laugh. Which was… admirable. Good for the sake of good was admirable but Trixie needs those showers.

He dresses and slips into shoes and heads down the street to his coffee shop.

The girl behind the counter has vivid green hair and Trixie hasn’t seen her before. She barely covers an eye roll when he orders a soy caramel latte.

“Thanks.” Trixie says, putting on the sunny disposition from his retail days.

“Sure.”

He perches on a stool by the window and pulls out his phone while he waits.

From: Ben 12:09am

_I’m drunj pick up_

From: Kim 8:23am

_Have you sorted your life out yet?_

From: Jen 8:35am

_Got you a lunch meeting for EP 2 tomorrow. Call me!_

Trixie taps his fingers against his leg. A heavy blanket of dread falls over him.

To: Kim 9:03am

_How do you break up with someone (you’re not technically in a relationship with) in a way that’s kind and says “I should never have done this to you” but also “it’s too soon for either of us to feel REALLY bad about it”?_

From: Kim 9:03am

_Girl. How the fuck would I know?_

_What happened to “things might work out with Ben”?_

To: Kim 9:04am

_You’re a shitty life coach and a shitty friend._

“Brian!” The barista calls.

Trixie snaps his focus from his phone. He takes his coffee with a grateful smile and heads back out to the street.

The sun is pounding down already but a cool breeze makes the morning bearable. Trixie walks the short few blocks home sipping his coffee and trying not to look too hungover when people pass him. He feels sensitive and achy, guilty and sick but there’s a jittering thrum of giddiness beneath his ribs that he can’t ignore. Plus, the coffee is great. People with bad attitudes always make the best coffee.

- 

The girl on stage is someone he hasn’t seen before. 

Crazy in Love is booming over the sound system and she’s high kicking and death dropping like some kind of 15 years younger Kennedy Davenport who’s going to make them all irrelevant in the next 18 months. It could be kind of nice, actually.

The guy behind the bar waves him away when he tries to pay for a water bottle. When he moves off to serve someone else Trixie leaves some money on the bar for him and ducks into the crowd, head down, making a beeline for the side door to get backstage.

He bumps into a few shoulders but gets there unscathed and, apparently, unsighted.

The hallway is cramped, and the music is thumping dully through the walls as he walks toward the dressing room. The number finishes to roaring applause and then the host is back on the mic, singing praises. Probably. He can’t really make it out.

Trixie ducks his head into the room and scans it quickly.

He keeps walking.

The back door is heavy and the handle is mildly sticky. Trixie crinkles his nose as he pushes it open.

“Hey, could I get a picture?” Trixie says.

Katya is crouched, smoking in the alley and Courtney leans against the brick wall in full drag. It looks like he’s interrupted a serious conversation by the way they both look up at him like they’ve been caught out.

“Fuck. You idiot.” Courtney laughs.

Trixie can feel Katya’s eyes on him but only glances to him briefly. A snapshot of stubble and sharp cheekbone. 

“God. I hate you. You know that?” Trixie says, gesturing to Courtney’s dress that’s glinting silver and clinging to her.

“That’s a woman.” Katya agrees.

Courtney laughs.

“Did you see who was on?”

“Some acrobatic, young nightmare.” Trixie says.

“Shit, I think I’m after her.” Courtney says with a gasp. She’s never been good with subtlety. Trixie’s not going to call her out on it though. He just smiles at his shoes as Courtney taps him lightly on the cheek and heads inside, the door closing with a thud and sealing most of the sound in.

Katya stands and puts his cigarette out under his foot. He’s all golden in the street light. 

“Anything interesting happen in your life lately?” He quips.

“Not really.” Trixie deadpans. 

“Want to pretend we don’t have any obstacles? Just for a while?” Katya looks at him sadly, hopefully.

Trixie nods. 

**Author's Note:**

> :-)


End file.
